The Heat of Love
by janeelliott12
Summary: Bell is an independent woman and thinks every man is a pig. But when her father gets attacked in the woods, she tries to save him and everything changes. She meets this beast who is rude and cruel. But as she spends more time with him, she sees the passion he's been holding on too for so many years. Can Bell learn that some men can love, and can she move on from her past?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

I closed the book, and leaned back into the tree. It smelled of pine, and the soft drizzle of rain only made the air crisper, cleaner.

The leather in my hands was soft and I caressed the gold letters. It always made me a little sad to leave behind a story. Characters I had invested in, and a plot I had craved for, was over and that was it.

I gazed down the hill and looked at the village at its feet. It was bustling with arguments and laughter. I watched the people in a daze, my head still in the last page of the book.

After a moment, the church bells rang, and an even larger crowd swarm out of the cathedral and the busy streets became cramped. The heads appeared bobbing side by side and weaving through.

A tall black haired man held my attention for the moment, drawing me out of the book.

Gaston. He was roaming the streets, yelling her name.

"Bell!? Bell are you here?!"

I dropped the book and laid it in my lap.

His ponytail of perfectly silky raven hair bobbed as he looked up the hill and saw me.

Gaston had the face of poets. Painters drooled over his cheekbones and carvers longed for those arched brows. In all the ways a man could be beautiful, he met up to them. The only imperfection laid in his smile. All charm, but no warmth.

I watched helplessly as he climbed the small hill and plopped down beside me.

"Bell." He grinned at me, rubbing my back.

I fought the urge to cringe. "Yes, Gaston?"

He gave my back a final pat and leaned back against the tree with me.

"It's Friday." He droned.

I rolled my eyes and lifted a hand to rub the headache out of my temples.

"Gaston, must you?" I almost begged.

"I must." He laughed, and reached into his trousers. When his palm reappeared a small satin box sat in it.

"Bell, will you marry me?"

He had been asking me every single Friday for six months, and my answer remained the same.

"Very well." He replied lightly, not at all disturbed at my refusal, and wrapped his hands behind his head. "I shall not give up on you my sweet, you are my life."

I scoffed. His life, that was just obscene. I was worth exactly the amount of wrinkles I had on my face. To him, my appearance was all that mattered, despite his sickly lies.

He glanced over at me and crossed his legs. "You laugh, but it is true." He leaned up and looked at me with intent eyes. "I could make you happy."

"Gaston, you could make me about as happy as a prisoner."

His bright blue eyes flickered with annoyance, but the persona kicked back in and he leaned back, smiling.

"Bell? Bell?" Bellow us in the square, my father was searching for me. His bald little head had wisps of white hair that framed his merry green eyes that matched my own. In his hand, he held a contraption of his that was currently puffing smoke onto the more delicate of ladies entering the shop.

Oblivious, he continued to search and with a small smile and picked myself, grabbing the book. Without a word to Gaston I began to walk down the hill.

"You know, our marriage would be very advantageous for you family." Gaston gestured to my father as he came up behind me.

I looked over at him with searing eyes.

"We are doing just fine on our own thanks."

He only rolled his shoulders and sent a little wave to a group of three young women cooing at him.

"I can see that." He replied sarcastically.

I just focused in on Father.

When we reached the bottom of the hill, my already filthy dress was an inch soaked in mud, but I hardly noticed.

And Gaston, being the prince that he is, did, and gave me a little more space.

A little smug about annoying pretty little Gaston, I grinned and approached my father, who was now apologizing to a lady in a pink gown for getting soot all over her new handbag.

"I'm very sorry madam, be sure to- Bell!" He greeted me, and waddled over to me, giving me a hug. He was a full foot shorter than I was but made up for it with his rosy plump form. He gave a curt nod to Gaston, and pulled me away into the crowd with him to home.

"He wasn't giving you a hard time was he?" Father grumbled as we climbed into the wooden coach.

I giggled. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

He puckered his lips and squinted his eyes. "If I was younger, I would-"

"Be chasing after all the other young ladies." I finished for him, and after a moment, he smiled and patted my knee.

* * *

Gaston patted the coach and sent a wave through the small window at Bell. She grimaced at him and turned away. When they were about a hundred yards away, he turned and started for the pub.

Bell could hide, could fight him. But he would have her. She was the only one worth him. Her beauty was unmatched by any other despite her rags she wore for clothing.

But he would fix that, he thought. Once they were married, he would dress her in the finest of silks and present her to all the courts at all the balls. Once he had her, their journey up the social ladder could begin.

He fingered the box in his pocket and made a vow that he would have her before the next Friday.

* * *

The rose, held in a halo of blue light, gentle released one of its beloved petals.

With a clawed hand he caught it and crushed it in his fingers.

There was so little time. So little time.

The shattered mirror before him displayed his already beastly face in horrifying fragments. His canines, long and white were exposed when he growled at the image.

Petal still in hand, he walked over to the mirror and threw it on the side of the wall. The glittering pieces fell and he watched the candle in the corner send shards of light across the room with the help of the shattered glass.

The room was alight with hope. At least, that was what he pretended. He needed some comfort, some sign.

He was so alone. So desperately alone. He, longed for companion ship, longed for someone to love. But that could never be. Not with this body.

He looked down and saw russet fur and a strong muscular frame. This was no gentleman's body, this was the body of an animal.

Suddenly very tired, he dropped to his knees and looked up at the floating flower.

It was strange how something so beautiful, could signify something as horrible as death.

The melancholy took over, and he let himself go limp and fall to the floor, cradling the petal.

Why, why did the woman chose this? Of all things, of all ways to suffer, how did she stumble upon this? It was the perfect sentence for his crime. Living alone in all his hate. But it had been so long. The flower, still had ten petals placed around its head, but before, it had thirty. That was almost a hundred years ago. He had learned his lesson, hadn't he?

Darkness threatened his vision and he watched himself in the reflection of a shard. And slowly, slowly, he drifted off. The only escape he was allowed in this hell.

**Hey guys! This is the first chapter in my new story! I hope you liked it! I am really excited and have a whole lot of twists this is going to take. Leave a review telling me if you think Bell is ready for what's ahead! Also feel free at anytime to leave questions, I will respond to them in your personal inbox!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Gaston sat at the long oak bar. The pitcher of beer in front of him was half empty and was currently being drained into his fourth glass.

"Rough day?"

Gaston looked up to see a plump woman with an overbite looking at him with gleaming eyes.

He tried to ignore her and looked into his glass while he took a deep swig.

It hadn't been a particularly bad day, it just had been disappointing. Bell had once again denied him, and he was left with only a vow to make her want him before the next Friday rolled around.

It had been frustrating, he constantly was trying to put the facade of being charming and chivalrous on around her, and she hadn't even given him a second look. The other women, had fallen over him, dropping to his feet at the slightest wink. But not her.

"Come on charming, it can't be all that bad." The woman was leaning towards him over the counter, smiling. Her breath smelled of bourbon and cheap cigars.

The smell brought him back to his younger years. All those women, all those sleepless nights taking a turn in the sheets. They had meant nothing to him, they never did.

The barkeep lifted the now empty pitcher, filled it back to the brim, and set it between them.

"Tell me what's on your mind, and it's on the house."

Gaston felt his pockets, and discovered them empty. With a deep breath, he looked up, and gave her his most smoldering grin.

"Why, you are."

The woman smiled, and poured him a glass.

* * *

I leaned over the rail and watched it spiral down. It fell with a shatter and the purple smoke rose out of the pieces.

"This is it!"

Father gripped my arm and looked at the billowing haze. It curled upwards and towered up around us. The sensation was numbing, and my tongue felt heavy.

"Well, darn." I looked down at Father and his small face was scrunched up in concentration. "If that had worked you'd be asleep by now."

I tapped his back consolingly, "You'll get it."

He muttered something about less grape leaves and returned into the house.

I looked around me, the fog clearing gently, and felt my mind start to pull away from the sluggish feeling.

Inside I heard the clinking of viles and vases. With a roll of my shoulders, I followed it and saw Father putting the clear liquid with a purple hinge, into a wicker basket. The label that once read, "sleeping fog", now read "Calming mist."

"Dad, really, just give it another week. We can hold out until then."

He just shook his head. "You know how low we are on funds dear, this may be my last chance to earn something before the fair moves on out of town."

Every year a huge celebration was held for the New Year, and new inventions were shown and sold as a sort of party favor. Last year he had sold what was originally supposed to be a "love pill", but was later named "affectionate capsule" due to its dull effects. After that, Father had put all his energy into this, and I could tell he was disappointed with himself.

I walked up behind him and gave his hunched form a squeeze.

He paused, and gently tapped my joined hands around his chest. "Now, now, don't worry about me. You should be upstairs fiddling with your hair. You never know who might be at the dance tonight. Who knows, Gaston might be there." He smiled my way.

I released him with a roll of my eyes and patted down my skirts. Gaston was the last person I intended to dance with, let alone spend time with.

What people didn't understand about Gaston was that there was a dirty underbelly to the deceivingly attractive figure. Inside he was low and manipulating.

I had to consciously not think about Ariel. She had been my best friend since childhood and had fallen victim to Gaston's ways.

As if reading my mind, Father looked over at me with a sad smile. "Gaston is not to be blamed for Ariel. You can't keep blaming him."

He didn't know the full story, I had seen to it that her indiscretions hadn't spread around town. I wouldn't tarnish her memory in such a way.

To appease him I pretended to bat my eyes at him. "I only have eyes for you Father."

It worked. He snorted with a chuckle.

"Go out Bell. Have fun. Be young, do stupid things."

* * *

He looked down into the mirror and asked to see the village.

People all shapes and sizes were crowding around tents and laughing. Children on mother's hips licked ice cream and watched the scene around them with big joyful eyes. Young men held their won in groups along the edge, watching and cooing at girls their age.

He longed for that kind of freedom, but knew that it no longer belonged to him. The rose, wouldn't last till next year. This would be his last.

A man appeared through the throngs of villagers and he called up over them for a woman named Marie. When they made eye contact, they rushed towards each other and the man lifted her into his arms with a kiss.

He quickly dropped the mirror, and the ornate silver clattered as it hit the floor. He looked into the fire, trying to stave off the chill that had risen into him.

"Monsieur, would you like a brandy?"

He cringed at the voice. With a slow turn, he faced the young man.

His face was sad and solemn, and was a deep contrast to his cheery red uniform. His disfigurement was the first thing he supposed an outsider would notice. Upon the man's head, was a candle, long and prominent, with painful drops of wax billowing down his body.

"No, Lumiere, go to your chambers. You have the night off."

Lumiere nodded, and with a bow backed out of the room.

If there was anything that the Beast hated more than his own situation, it was the cruel position he put the rest of his staff in. All of them had been horribly maimed, all because of his own sinful pride towards a woman nearly a hundred years ago.

If it weren't for them, he would have given up long ago.

Yes, he was no stranger to the idea of death.

* * *

Gaston wiped his mouth on his handkerchief. The woman's lipstick was all over his face, and he didn't want any evidence of the encounter visible on him.

Beside him, the barkeep snored gently, and he sneered at her.

She had been useful in his time of need, but now he had no use for her. Her beauty was slim to none and he deserved much, much more.

With a final chuckle, he waded up the cloth and threw it onto her sleeping bare back, where his mind made the connection of human trash and the ones they produced.

He rose and buttoned the middle button in his leather jacket, preparing himself for the night. If his estimations were correct, he would have more than six women tonight. That is, if Bell wasn't there.

* * *

Maurice stepped through his front door and held his precious cargo to his chest. Bell was inside, lounging on her bed, reading Romeo and Juliet for the hundredth time.

He sighed. Sometimes he worried for her future. She deserved so much more than a ne'er-do-well inventor's daughters life.

The snow landing on his nose made him look up with a sigh. This would only give the fire breathers and edge, he thought.

Trying to remain optimistic, he began to make his way into the forest.

The long tree's swayed above him in towers of green fluff and he could barely make out the sky above them. In fact, it seemed they blended into the clouds.

His hand twitched around the bundle. He was a painter as a young man, and he longed to pull out his canvas and create the world around him. But he couldn't. That passion had been long forgotten when his Bell's mother died.

Sometimes the pain for Rosie was so intense that he could not breathe. Then he would see Bell, and everything would be okay. Rosie was the one to have named Bell too. He had wanted a May, or Jewel, but no, Rosie was insistent on Bell.

Her explanation was that Bell should have a name that "rang" with love. He had once laughed at the romantic notion. But now, all that mush made him smile.

If only Rosie was here. She would know what to say to their daughter.

His mind began to wander, and he lost himself in the memories of his late wife.

**Here you go, chapter two. Thank you "****TrudiRose****" for your comments and suggestions. And you'll just have to wait and see to find out where I go with all of this**** For everyone, leave a review telling me what you think happened to Bell's friend Ariel, and if Gaston is a real threat. Love ya, next chapter up soon.**


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